Sometimes You Just Know
by Story Please
Summary: Hermione's birthday is coming up, but nothing is ever simple when one's best friend is The Boy Who Lived, the house is full of Weasleys and the new man in her life happens to be someone who everyone thinks is dead. But then again, Hermione is used to playing life on Hard Mode, so what's one more uncomfortable conversation?


**Sometimes You Just Know**

"Oh god, they're after us!" Hermione gasped, as she burst through the door.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at her and gave her an irritated sneer but said nothing as he held his body perfectly still, tipping a tall, thin beaker very slowly over a large glass decanter. Three small droplets poured into the long neck of the decanter. Severus immediately stoppered the smaller beaker, drawing his wand and tapping it once over the top of mixture while saying something softly under his breath. The color changed from a smoky gray to a bright red that reminded Hermione of the fake fruit punch drink that was all the rage at children's birthday parties when she was a little girl.

With a curt, satisfied nod, he placed a _Stasis_ charm on the concoction and then stoppered and sealed it with wax, levitating it into an open space on the shelf behind him and affixing it to the wood with a Sticking Charm. Then, he turned to face Hermione, who had closed the door quietly and was leaning against it looking chastened.

"Now, then," he said slowly, crossing his arms and approaching her, his robes whispering rather loudly, "What, _exactly_ , is this all about?"

"W...well…" Hermione stuttered, her expression evasive, "It's...I think...they _know…_ "

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "Hermione. You are an adult and are therefore capable of communicating as one. Please do not make me repeat myself."

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.

Even though the entire reason that everyone was crushed into Grimmauld Place was due to the fact that Harry had insisted on hosting her twentieth birthday party, she still felt stupidly young, especially compared to Molly Weasley, who had decided that an invitation for a party on Saturday meant coming a week ahead of time and driving everyone mad with her incessant cleaning and nosiness. The worst part was that Harry argued that he couldn't exactly ask her to leave without causing friction between both Ginny and Ron and their mother. He'd just given Hermione that look he'd given her many times, the one that said "Please, I know it's a bother but she's like the mum I never had, and it's easier than making a fuss."

Hermione knew that she'd already lost.

It was already bad enough that she was staying in Grimmauld Place for free. Harry refused to accept rent because he knew the pain of losing both parents, and it was fairly plain after several tries to fix their memories that, while the Grangers still lived, who they were before was gone forever. It still made her feel like a hopeless leech. It didn't help that she wasn't very good with cooking unless she had very detailed instructions and a cookbook, and even then, she spent the entire time obsessing over the exact amounts and order of steps to finish the meal she was making. She'd inevitably get overwhelmed and begin cursing loudly, which stressed Harry out and made Kreacher smile creepily at her as though he wished to say something cruel but could not. She did a fair amount of cleaning around the house, but she knew that Harry didn't particularly notice it, as he was the exact opposite of a neat freak. Besides, Kreacher did most of it anyway, though he never touched her room.

Hermione also knew that Molly Weasley was not particularly happy about Hermione staying with Harry. Even though he would always be more of a brother than boyfriend material and was currently happily together with Ginny, Molly always fixed Hermione with a suspicious glare when she thought that no one else was looking. Hermione remembered the treatment she'd received in her fourth year when the Prophet had said those terrible things about her and Harry, and she knew she'd been right not to fully trust the matriarch of the Weasley family.

She did her best to pretend that it didn't bother her as much as it did.

There was also the sticking point of Ron, who had decided that he liked being a playboy more than he liked being exclusively with Hermione. He'd had the audacity to suggest an "open" relationship where he'd get to play around while Hermione stayed loyal to only him, and Hermione had slammed the door in his face. They'd reconciled a bit once their tempers were not nearly as heated, but it was fairly plain to see that they'd never be together in any long-term sense of the word. Hermione had nearly breathed a sigh of relief when Ron had gone back to forgetting that she was female again.

The thing was, she had most definitely not expected to start dating again anytime soon, and even if she had, the last person she would have imagined to turn her head was Severus Snape, largely due to the fact that he was supposed to be dead. Besides, she couldn't rightly refer to their relationship as "dating." He would never do something so crass.

" _Hermione?_ " He was inches away from her, now, waving a hand over her face, his eyes narrowed with concern. "I know that I can stun most students into silence with a look, but this is ridiculous!"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, Severus, I just sorta… spaced for a moment there."

"Oh _really_?" he said, tucking a strand of errant hair behind one of her ears and drawing closer to her, his nose resting against hers. "Then perhaps I should… take _advantage_ of your momentary lapse in focus."

Hermione's heart beat more and more quickly as he wrapped a long arm around the back of her and pulled her against his body firmly. Funnily enough, she'd been the first to pull him close to her after the awkward, long looks had gone on far too long, but it had opened up something between the two of them. Now, if he _could_ be touching her in some small way, he would.

"Hermione?" _Hermioneeeeee_!" The sound of heavy footfalls clomping down the stairs above them startled them both out of their reverie.

"Let me guess." Severus said, his voice deadpan, "The entire Weasley clan is searching the house for _you_ … because of _me_?"

"Well, you weren't in your room. Why were you down here, anyway?" Hermione replied, her eyes downcast with guilt. "Surely you don't _have_ to brew anything? You didn't even have to stay if you didn't want to… I know how you feel about this place…"

Severus sighed deeply and looked back at the tiny, makeshift laboratory behind him.

"To be honest, Hermione, it was more of a whim than anything. I was merely curious to see if it was still here, and I was hoping to finish this before your party tonight."

He pointed to the tall glass decanter and Hermione stared at the red liquid inside.

"What is—?" she started, jumping back away from the door as someone began to pound loudly against the door.

"C'mon, Mione!" Ron's voice bellowed from the other side of the door. "I know you're in there with your _freak_ of a _boyfriend_!"

" _Charming_ ," Severus drawled quietly into Hermione's ear.

"I… I didn't mean for it to come out that I'm seeing someone already… but… he just made me so _mad_. Accusing me of being an old maid, of pining after _him_ when really he's the pathetic one, crawling back because he has decided that _I'm_ the one he wants after three years of debauchery! Like I'm some kind of toy just sitting about on a shelf to pick up and play with when the mood suits him!" Hermione hissed back, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "And you know Harry, he can't keep a secret, not when his best mate asks directly exactly who is staying in your room."

"Come on out, Hermione, _dear_!" Molly Weasley said sharply, her voice anything but kindly. "I'm sure we all know how easy it is to go for the bad boy type."

Severus set his mouth in a hard line and Hermione could feel his body tensing at the harsh implication in her voice.

"No!" exclaimed Hermione, her voice growing slightly shrill with panic. "That's not why—!"

He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, kissing her forehead gently, which starkly contrasted with the look of rage that was beginning to rise on his face.

"I know," he said. "Stay here. I will… handle things."

Hermione did not like the idea of Severus being forced to deal with her mistakes, but the look he gave her was enough to make her nod reluctantly.

"I shall be back shortly," he said, turning and tearing open the door, slamming it behind himself.

Hermione drew closer to the door and listened intently.

"Severus! It _is_ you!" Molly Weasley gulped, the fear palpable in her voice. "Just what exactly have you done to force the poor girl to think that—"

"Molly. Mr. Ronald Weasley." Snape's voice was even and cold.

Hermione could hear Ron gulping and stuttering.

"Have either of you spoken with Miss Granger?"

"Well no, but—"

"She didn't give us the chance to—"

"So you do not trust Hermione's judgement?" His voice was dangerously soft.

"That's not—you're twisting my words!" Molly huffed.

"Is it not her twentieth birthday party this evening?"

"What have you done to her, Snape?!" Ron spluttered.

"I think that the question here is what have _you_ done to her, Mr. Weasley."

"Ron? What is he talking about?" Molly's voice was puzzled.

There was a long silence as Hermione imagined the withering glare that Severus was sure to be giving to Ron.

"Mr. Weasley has not been… _with_ … Hermione for almost three years," Severus said, finally.

"Is that true?" Molly said, her voice so deceptively calm that, had Hermione not known that Molly only ever got very quiet and calm when she was furious, Hermione would have thought the Weasley matriarch placated by Snape's words.

"Is there anything else you would like me to _clarify_?"

Hermione could practically hear him sneering.

"No… well… yes, but it can wait for another time," Molly said quickly.

"Ow! Ow, Mum! Not the ear!" Ron yelped as heavy footsteps tromped back up to the main floor.

Moments later, Severus was back in the room with her, his arms around her tightly as she breathed raggedly and tried not to cry.

"I know, I know. I'm being silly," Hermione said, her body still feeling slightly shaky, as though she'd been in the middle of the confrontation.

"Hermione, if I have learned one thing in my entire life, it is that emotions are not silly and they should never be ignored," Severus replied, wiping a tear from the corner of Hermione's eye.

"And, if _I've_ learned one thing," Hermione said, her voice catching in her throat, "it's that sometimes, what you were looking for was under your nose all along."

"Speak for yourself, Hermione," Severus replied with a snort, "after all, mine is large enough for quite a lot to be under it, so you had better be more specific."

Hermione tried not to laugh, but failed miserably, her body silently shaking with laughter as he kissed her deeply.

"You know what, Severus? I'm not feeling in much of a party mood," Hermione said, catching her breath, her eyes half-closed as she looked up at him.

His dark robes wrapped around her, filling her with a sense of security.

" _Just say the word_ ," he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"Please. Just… anywhere but here," Hermione whispered, squeezing him close and nuzzling into his chest.

"As you wish," he said softly, his lips whispering against her cheek. She could feel the corners of his mouth turning up on the ends.

He grasped her hand and led the way up the stairs after warding the door behind them. Harry stood at the top of the stairs, leaning in the doorway to the kitchen with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Hermione… I…" he stuttered, pulling his rounded glasses off and hastily wiping them off as they fogged up.

"Just let me go, Harry. Tell the others… tell them to enjoy themselves. I'll be back… later." Hermione didn't look at Harry, and she almost sighed with relief as Severus put himself between them.

Harry looked as though he was about to say something but then nodded quietly and they passed by the curtain that hid the portrait of Walburga Black without incident.

Hermione's hand was on the doorknob when they heard a creak to their right and Severus immediately pressed himself in front of her, his arms out as though shielding her from an impending attack.

Instead, Ron simply shuffled down the stairs with his hands in his pockets and a rather hang-dog look on his face.

"For what it's worth, 'Mione, I'm sorry I hurt you. Playing the field really didn't turn out to be as fun as I thought it would be," he said, looking at her as though they were alone.

"I don't owe you an explanation or an answer, Ronald," Hermione replied, feeling somewhat smug when Ron winced at her usage of his formal name. "However, I do want you to know that, while it hurt when you stomped all over my feelings for the thousandth time, it was actually a kindness, because, you see, that's just how you are. And, even if it hadn't happened then, you'd have figured out some way to stomp on my heart and disregard my feelings at some later point when it would be far too difficult to get out. I'm no saint, either. We're just… even as friends we fight all the time. If we threw romance into the mix, it would simply add fuel to the fire."

"But… but… doesn't the fighting mean that we truly care about each other?" Ron asked, blinking slowly. "Surely, if we hated each other, we wouldn't be able to stand one another and make up."

Hermione took a deep breath.

"No, Ron, that's not how a healthy relationship works. Sure, all relationships include disagreements, arguments and debates, but if you're fighting, actually fighting…"

"But, surely I'm better than…" Ron's face flushed in the halflight as he looked at Severus, who glared back.

"Is that why you've been freaking out? You're _jealous_?" Hermione let out a strange, choked laugh. "Do you have any idea how mental that sounds, especially after your long-winded talk about how blokes need to have a lot of _experience_ with a lot of different witches before they settle down?"

Ron gulped loudly and nodded his head quietly.

"Don't worry, Ron. I don't compare Severus to you," Hermione said, her voice growing strained. "Even if I weren't with anyone at all, I would not want to get back together with you because we are still just as incompatible. It's not about HIM. It's about US. It's about how WE don't WORK."

"I still don't understand," Ron muttered.

"Well, I hope that you'll think about it," Hermione replied, "because I think you already know even if you're too stubborn to admit it. We'll always be friends, Ron, but..."

"That's it, then?" Ron said softly. "No second chances?"

"No," Hermione said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, Ron, but no."

"Hermione," Severus said softly, putting his arm around her gently. "Are you ready?"

"Yes… of course," she replied, distractedly, pointedly staring at the doorknob for a long moment before pulling the front door open.

"You'd better be good to her, or I'll make you wish you died that day!" Ron said, turning his frustration and anger on Snape.

"Don't worry," Snape replied acerbically, " _I_ will make me wish that I died that day if such a scenario ever comes to pass."

And with that, he swept her into an embrace, his long traveling cloak folding around Hermione until she appeared to be swathed in black as she tucked her head under his chin and nuzzled into his chest. In a moment, they'd disappeared into thin air with a loud, crisp crack that echoed through the empty street.

Ron stood at the door, staring silently at the empty street for a long moment before closing the door behind him and stalking up the stairs to where Harry waited for him with sympathetic eyes.

It would take time, but Hermione was right.

Sometimes, you just know.


End file.
